


the awful edges where you end and i begin

by kweerwolf



Category: Fright Night (2011), Underworld (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blood Kink, Bulimia, Childhood Trauma, Choking, Disembowelment, Group Sex, Hook-Up, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder, Necrophilia, Open Relationships, Past Relationship(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Serial Killers, Threesome - M/M/M, Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-10-20 11:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20674466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kweerwolf/pseuds/kweerwolf
Summary: lucian and peter are at different, yet eerily similar points in their lives. while one is a freshly-divorced senior writer at a buzzfeed-esque website, the other is in the midst of a mentally exhausting ever-repeating cycle at the second peak of his career. after years of radio silence, they reunite yet remain wary to restart what they had so long ago. that all changes when peter humours lucian’s talks of murder, ones that he believes to be nothing more than venting, yet all-too-quickly become their reality.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i have no way to explain this other than i read one (1) smut fic, saw too many ads for prodigal son, then thought “how do i give myself a wahoo for this b r i l l i a n t i d e a ?”

Muggy air and cool rain rule supreme tonight. The sidewalk is slippery with rainbow oil spills that glimmer underneath pools of streetlight. Thanks to the same streetlights, no stars are visible, leaving the sky an inky black accented by deep blue-grey clouds. Though, the moon is silvery and bright, hiding behind a few bare tree branches. It creates an effect that the branches are reaching up to the goddess of night, trying in vain to caress her cheek. 

While the night is young, it’s over for him. They’ll be arriving any second and he’s accepted that fact. He’s indulging in his last cigarette, taking a long, deep drag off of it and blowing a light puff of smoke into the air. Dozens of raindrops hit his warm face, he can feel them sizzling against his skin. Warm air begins to blow, whistling through the leaves of his neighbour’s hedge. A thunderstorm is coming, he’s certain of this. It’s a shame he’s going to miss it.

Only blocks away he can hear sirens ringing out. It’s only to be expected, he lives in the quiet suburbs of North Harrow. Middle class parents are asleep while their children stay up to play video games or sneak out to town and cause havoc.

He settles against his little red car, kicking his heel up against the bumper. If only he could have paid it off before he gave himself up, but truth be told, it was nice to get an excuse to not pay off this piece of shit.

Blue and red lights flash down the road and his cigarette is nearly down to the filter. He hates filtered cigarettes, but he hadn’t popped down to the shop in ages to buy a pack of the kind he liked. The brown filter drops from his fingers to the ground, and he crushes it beneath the toe of his hiking boot. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket and watches the cop car roll right up to him. Two police officers rush out of their car, asking him to give himself up.

“We won’t give you any trouble if you put your hands up, sir!” One yells with force as another car stops behind theirs. He’s surprised to see that they’re armed.

He raises his hands in the air and takes a deep breath.


	2. Lucian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lucian celebrates his first night as a newly-single man with a drink at his favourite pub and a grindr hookup.
> 
> warnings for non-con, homophobic language, and sexist arsehats.

He and his wife agreed to divorce three months ago. The paperwork was still being processed, but she finally moved out and he was free to do what he pleased. His first action as a single man was to hit up his favourite pub, something he hadn’t done in seven years. He looked up at the wooden sign hung above the door, the lights hung above the sign illuminating the ye olden text scrawled across it.

The Olde-Fashioned Taverne, so named to draw mush-brained tourists with overpriced lager in medieval beer steins, was one of the worst-rated pubs in all of Harrow. Everything was watered down, so tourists would feel superior because it took about five drinks for them to feel tipsy (though, he quite liked watered down beer). Just as well, the pub always smelt of old grease with a vague hint of ammonia. However, the beer was cheap and the patrons were hilarious after a few drinks, so there wasn’t too much to complain about.

Cecil, the pub owner who liked to think of himself as every patron’s kindly old father figure, was excited to see him step through the front doors. He looks at Cecil for a moment, his eyes light up at the sight of his old friend.

“Luce!” He cheered, waddling out from behind the bar and wrapping his arms around Lucian’s middle. “Divorce treatin’ you well?”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckled, looking up at the other patrons. Rob, Tom, and Bill were all sat at the bar, giving warm smiles to him. 

Cecil looked up at him and patted his stomach. An impressed look crossed his pudgy face and, despite Lucian’s awkward posture, he continued touching his abs through his shirt.

“Who’d have thought you’d turn out lookin’ better after seven years with that cunt, aye?” He pulled his shirt up and admired his abs for a moment, before stepping aside to show everyone else.

Bill raised his mug while Rob and Tom audibly applauded him. “What’s yer routine, Luce?”

He didn’t respond, just smiled and approached the bar, ordering a Guinness and a basket of chips. The chips at the Olde-Fashioned were some of the worst he’d ever had, simply atrocious-tasting. Half the time they were either burnt to a dark brown colour, glistening with too much grease and too much salt, or they were light yellow and slightly frozen inside. When he was a child he liked to eat frozen chips, they were a delicacy compared to cut-up frankfurters.

Lucian took a sip from his particularly heady Guinness, watching Cecil busy himself in the back room and listening to the trio of drunkards beside him try and start a proper conversation with him.

“Why’d yeh finally decide to leave the wife? Thought she was pretty fit.” Rob said, gesturing vaguely with his hand.

Lucian glanced over at them, pulling his lips straight. They didn’t want to hear the real reason he left her, or more accurately, many reasons. His lips hover at the lip of the glass, his cold eyes flash past his companions and look up at the grainy black and white TV hung in the corner of the pub.

He planned to stop talking about Sonja once he left her, as he knew she stopped talking about him just the same. Well, he liked to think she was upset, but it was much more likely she’d already moved on. She did have a rebound already lined up, one that was very accepting of the fact that he wasn’t partner material to her.

Lucian took his mind off of Sonja as quickly as he could, downing half of his drink before his chips were finally brought out. Cecil set down the basket, presenting them like they weren’t a deep brown colour, soaked in oil, and over-salted. He was hoping they’d be near-frozen instead, but his burnt taste buds were thanking him in advance.

“What’re you gonna do now that you got rid of the ol’ ball-and-chain?” Cecil chimed in once more, and Lucian bit down into an over-cooked chip. He chuckled humourlessly to himself, the symphony being completed once the shitheads beside him joined in.

He took another swig of his drink, glancing between Cecil and the peanut gallery. “After I’m done with my beer and chips, I have a Grindr hookup meeting me here.”

The group turned uncomfortably silent, leaving Lucian to his food.

“Wait, Grindr’s the one for blokes, ri—” Tom started to ask before Rob set a hand on his shoulder, confirming his inquiry was indeed correct.

Cecil  _ hmph _ ed, taking Lucian’s glass stein and emptying it in the sink. “Tell him you’ll be meeting him at the fag bar down the road.”

He exhaled loudly and shoved the basket of chips toward Cecil, all while the men surrounding him either stared in horror or laughed at his awful comment. Lucian stepped out of the Olde-Fashioned without paying, like Cecil would accept queer money, looking down at his phone and finding that his hookup would be there in ten minutes. That text was sent seven minutes ago.

EliTwink420:  _ Hope I’ll be seein you in ten. :3 _

Otter2Bear:  _ Shit. Would u like to meet at my house instead? Got kicked out of the pub _

He stood against the brick wall of the pub, watching car after car pass by. He threw his head back and yelled at the sky, all the while a woman passed by with her son, terrified that he was about to hack her head off and rip her son’s eyeballs out with just his teeth.

His phone buzzed.

EliTwink420:  _ Sure, I guess. :3 Pretty badass to get kicked out of a pub. You’ll have to tell me all about it. ;3 _

Lucian smirked at his phone momentarily, giving him the address to his home. Within twenty minutes he was back at his home in North Harrow, holed up in his living room with a bottle of whisky and the lights dimmed. He lied across the sofa, in just a pair of low-rise denim trousers that he would never wear outside of this sort of occasion. His hair was loose across his shoulders, removed from the bun he wore it in when he went to the pub.

One candle sat on his glass coffee table, scented of spice and wood and musk. He’d put it out once his hookup arrived, unless he liked the scent and wanted it going while they fucked.

The knocking on his door was loud in comparison to the utter silence he was reveling in. He trudged from the sofa to the door, building anticipation as he did so. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a pretty young-looking kid on the other side. While he used emoticons like a kid, that very easily could have been the habit of a thirty-six-year-old Japanophile. Nevertheless, he’s pleased.

“Hello,” he said, greeting him in a calm, slightly warm way. The kid, potentially named Eli, smiled up at him before his eyes drifted down Lucian’s chest.

“H-hi.” He stammered slightly, his face turning red. “You look just like your pic.”

His picture on Grindr was simply a picture of him in his mirror, shirtless, of course, with his hair loose.

“You look just like yours, as well.” His voice was deep and flirtatious, it made the boy shudder pleasantly. “Would you like to come in?”

He nodded quickly, stepping in while Lucian locked the door behind them. The candle was the only light in the room, but somehow it lit just enough to be able to vaguely make out Eli. He sat down on the sofa, stretching out and smirking. Lucian sat down beside him, pouring him a whisky.

“Oh, I don’t—” Eli protested before Lucian forced the drink up to his lips and down his throat. He gagged on the drink, but he got the whole thing down.

“Good boy,” he said, smirking and patting Eli’s head.

Lucian spent the next ten minutes getting Eli drunk, all while he believed that after one last drink they’d get started. Once he started acting bizarre and woozy, he was sure Eli was ready. He pulled his shirt off, running his rough hands over his soft, young skin. The young boy moaned underneath him, giggling gently while Lucian pressed chapped kisses to his chest.

Though, the gentle foreplay quickly ended. He tugged the boy’s trousers off, followed by his own, and pulled a condom onto himself. Eli’s legs were tugged over his head, slung over Lucian’s shoulders. He cried out in pain when Lucian thrust in, curling his toes and clenching the sofa tightly, his knuckles turned white. Eli’s cries and his tight, resisting sphincter was pure ecstasy to him. He hadn’t had a fuck this good in ages.

“ _ Ow,  _ could you please— _ ah! _ —be gentler?” He whimpered, hoping if he could push Lucian’s cock out of himself he could keep him out. However, that didn’t work. He just pushed back into Eli and made him scream.

“It’s not fun if you’re not hurting.” He grimaced, thrusting harder into Eli’s arse. His voice rang out in the house, tears rolled down his bright red cheeks. He pushed his cheek against the arm of the sofa, forcing him to look away from Lucian. Tension built in the room, Eli started crying loudly in response to him thrusting harder and even faster. His eyes met Lucian’s, and he grimaced in response. “ _ Stop looking at me. _ ”

“Let me go,  _ I don’t want it anymore let me g _ —” Eli begged, his eyes pleading to be released. Lucian didn’t stop fucking him, he started properly struggling and hitting him in the face. “ _ Let me GO! _ ”

Eli bit one of Lucian’s hands when it came near his face. He growled, pulling out and letting go of the boy. While he leaned back, on the verge of cumming, grimacing and furrowing his eyebrows at the kid, he got dressed again and shot an icy, pissed-off look at him.

“I didn’t agree to any of that shit!” He scowled, hunched over as he pulled his trousers back on. “You’re fucked up,  _ absolutely  _ fucked up!”

Within a few minutes Eli was out of the house, rushing down the street despite Lucian not following him. He was nursing his hand, the skin faintly broken with thin trails of blood leaking down from the wounds.  _ Fucking prick, _ he thought to himself, sucking the blood from the bite.

He spent the rest of the night watching porn to resolve his blue balls and forced himself to sleep after finishing the last of his whisky. The only thing he was truly upset about was that his first attempt at Tinder was so shit. Though, he’d always liked going to clubs over using apps. That weekend he’d head down to his nearest gay bar and pick someone up, take him home, and fuck him wildly like he’d tried to do that night.

Lucian would have what he wanted eventually, even if he couldn’t envision exactly what that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prologue ended up getting a really positive response! thank you guys so much for reading, giving kudos, and leaving comments. <3 i hope you enjoyed this one, and i’ll update very soon.


	3. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter gets drunk and gets sad thinking about his ex.
> 
> warnings for bulimia, addiction, and depression

Peter had just finished a show in Los Angeles, one of the bigger gigs he’d landed in ages. Not quite the biggest, as he’d been in a “blockbuster” last year that he admittedly only did for the paycheque. It was quickly spent on weed and liquor, and he was perfectly happy with that.

The film did boost his number of paid gigs from about one-hundred a year to nearly two-hundred. He despised having to travel all across the United States, Canada, Mexico, god knows where to do these shows, but at least he got booked in the nicest rooms in every hotel he stayed at each night. Not to mention the pieces of arse he could land each night, each groupie finer than the last. He could surprise each one of them in one way or another, either by being a fairly subpar lay or by not being straight or gay, as most everyone assumed of him the second they looked at him.

He sat in a darkened hotel room in New York City, looking out over the skyline with boredom and vague disgust. Every single show since this new tour started had some problem, either a squib didn’t work correctly, the pyrotechnics fucked up or didn’t go off on cue, or his mic would cut out midway through the climax. That wasn’t even the extent of problems he’d had—behind the scenes was even worse. Actresses walking left and right and having to hastily hire any woman with at least a D-cup to satiate horny audiences was the biggest issue, though most crew members had ducked out over the course of his 30-stop tour.

New York, thankfully, was the last stop on the tour. He’d get to go home the next morning, back to his pricey flat in Chelsea to sleep his mornings away and spend all night bouncing from nightclub to nightclub. Back to his beloved routine,  _ finally _ .

Now, however, he’s waiting for three groupies who are currently strewn about his California King-sized bed to wake up and get out. They were as good as inexperienced virgins, despite selling themselves as being sex gods and goddesses. So he powered through an awful foursome, one that was surprisingly satisfying to his groupies. He’d expected them to pack up and leave after he came, but they insisted on staying with him, holding onto him and asking pleasantly if they could take pictures with him. He denied each request.

Peter sat with his legs spread apart on a quite modern leather chair, slouched so low that his body folded somewhat uncomfortably. Though, he ignored the subtle flashes of pain rushing up his spine, focused on blurry lights that looked hundreds of stories down. He hadn’t had a chance to leave the hotel in his two nights there, so he ordered a dozen bottles of his favourite liquor from the bar on the first or second floor. The last bottle of liquor hung in his hand, mostly drained.

He stumbled as he stood up from the seat, making his way to the bathroom through his bedroom. The groupies didn’t wake up, so he rushed and locked himself in the bathroom. Peter hunched over the toilet, shoving two of his fingers to the back of his throat. They prodded around for an abysmally long time, enough for him to consider not falling back on this habit, but he was retching moments after regret crossed his mind. He vomited into the porcelain bowl, his heaving echoing off the marble walls.

His cheek rested on his outstretched arm, he looked up at the small chandelier hung above his head. He didn’t want to look down and think about what he just did. When he was younger he was diagnosed as a bulimic, but by his mid-twenties he was almost fully recovered. He’d replaced his need to binge and purge with meaningless sex and too many pills, which quickly made him relapse to purging every single meal, then every single drink. Peter had no idea how his esophagus wasn’t exploded by now.

The sound of the toilet flushing drowned out his irksome thoughts, though knowing the contents of his stomach were the same slime green colour as his alcohol made him nauseous. He neglected to wash his hands, instead turning the lights off, exhaling quietly, and stepping out into the bedroom.

A pair of eyes are focused on him, intrigued.

“Are you alright?” One of the female groupies asked, still naked.

Peter grimaced, trying to walk away and pretend he didn’t notice her. However, she grabbed his thigh, trying to pull him back down onto the bed. He shook her hand off, scowling at her.

“Don’t talk to me.” He hissed, looking down at her with fury in his eyes. His voice was strained and harsh, it scared her. She retracted back onto the bed, staring up at him with a look of brimming terror in her eyes. “Don’t you  _ dare _ touch me, either.”

He stormed back to his seat in the den, flopping down onto it and sighing loudly. His hand wandered around the chair, eventually finding a telly remote and flipping it on. He watched some horrific film while the girl woke her friends up, redressed themselves, and left him to his solitude. The glow of the screen burnt his eyes, but he didn’t want to try and adjust the brightness.

Peter took a swig from his liquor, defeated in the fact that he’d have to puke this up once he finished the bottle. When his brain was reeling post-purge, he’d get thinking too deeply about how much he hates his lifestyle. Not the drinking, of course, he loved getting drunk in the moment, but he missed having some sort of control over what he did.

He used to wake up at six pm, get dressed in something slinky and sexy, and roll up to the club down the road. He’d stay up till three am, sweaty and exhausted. It depended on the night, but he’d either meet up with his ex at the club, grind against him for a while and tempt him into a blowjob in the loo that always turned into a full-blown quickie, or he’d call him from the club, worn-out and trying to keep down ten cocktails and three different guy’s semen. Peter would slouch in the passenger seat and watch his ex drive, fascinated by him. He looked so pretty when street lights and headlights illuminated his face. Sometimes he’d reach over and touch his hair, teasing it between his fingers and bringing one of the long locks up to his lips, kissing it softly.

It was Peter who instigated their breakup. Ex wanted to get serious and be monogamous with him, even though Peter was the only one in the relationship who engaged in polyamory. He wanted to settle down, and the thought of settling down couldn’t terrify him more. Ex didn’t cry, even though he could tell he wanted to, he simply took his things, gave tender, heartbroken looks to Peter, and left Chelsea behind.

He had no idea where he was. While he was invited to Ex’s wedding to a girl he’d known for two years before they married, he had a show in Los Angeles the same day and couldn’t postpone it. So, Ex never forgave him, and as far as Peter knew, he was still happily married, maybe with a child or two. That thought ripped him apart, knowing Ex was happy and he couldn’t even fathom a way to improve his own life.

Peter plucked his cell from his back pocket, flipping through it momentarily before he opened his Facebook. His mum was excited to see him home, practically demanded he come see her in Harrow once he was back in London. A few messages from school friends, work friends, et cetera. He hated looking through his messages and every old photo he was in but his friends never tagged, which led to their friends to respond “you knew Peter Vincent?!?!” with various shocked emojis.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a blinking line occupying the search bar. He wanted to resist the urge to do what he was convincing himself to do. But, his fingers were typing away, and in no time he was on Ex’s page.

It was private, so he had nothing to look at beyond his name, mutual friends, and his picture. His hair was still long, just styled differently, but otherwise he looked the same as he did almost ten years prior. Peter pressed “add friend” without even thinking, refusing to let himself think about it. He closed Facebook and set his phone down, looking back up at the telly. If he was lucky, Ex would deny the request, or he didn’t even use Facebook and the request would go unanswered. What was he thinking? Years without contact, and all of a sudden he was trying to slip back into his life like nothing happened between them. Peter was a fucking idiot, and he knew it.

His flight was in three hours. In that time, he decided he’d finish his liquor, nap for an hour, then pack his things and leave the hotel for the airport. He’d probably sleep on the flight, too, Peter had become obsessed with sleep after his clubbing days ended. Anything to get away from his shitty stage show, interviews, and incessant fans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the support on the previous chapter. <3


	4. Lucian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucian starts to reconnect with Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for this taking as long as it did. school’s a bitch

Lucian arrived at work an hour early, just when the doors were opened and only the desk clerk and security guards were inhabiting the halls. He had to go into the office every now and again, talk out article ideas and eventually divvy up jobs between each writer at the company. He’d been dealing with these meetings for ages, even back before he started dating Sonja and getting his life back on track. He tended to just watch article ideas pop up on the projector and claim whichever one didn’t sound like utter shite.

His laptop bag was tucked under his arm, and he wandered up to the board room they were meeting in: 32B, on the third floor. Each floor had ten main board rooms, but a divider wall could be placed between them, making twenty on each floor. The divider walls were paper thin, so hopefully his more excitable colleagues weren’t on the other side, yelling over their quiet, casual conversation.

He pressed an elevator button, grimacing at how slow they were this early in the morning. It felt like the building hadn’t yet woken up, like it was asking for five more minutes in bed.

The click of fashionable shoes clicked down the halls, and five young people followed him into the elevator. Interns liked to arrive early on Thursdays, the boss loved this arbitrary day of the week and was prone to giving promotions to particularly dedicated employees. As this was the biggest online publication in the Greater London area, kids fresh out of university wanted to secure a position at their headquarters in hopes they would eventually be brought on for their video production division. 

Lucian started there long before their YouTube channels were opened and pumped through the algorithm, but he’d been in his fair share of them. He’d feature in every single video focused on the queer community, or videos where staff read “thirst comments,” as they were called. Their viewers absolutely adored him, calling him “Daddy” despite how often he said he hated it. However, he couldn’t complain that he was getting compliments. He liked getting fan art made of himself that he quickly posted to his Instagram and gushed over.

The interns tapped the numbers of each floor they needed, focused on their screens or invested in a phone call. Lucian decided to follow suit, opening up his phone and checking his notifications from the night before. Nothing but a request on Facebook, from a name he hadn’t seen on his screen in ages.

_ Facebook - Friend request from Peter Vincent _

He didn’t click the notification, he simply looked at it until the elevator dinged, and he got off at his floor. Lucian walked purposefully down the aisle between long desks shared by two or three junior writers, each decorated in a way that would look aesthetically appealing in videos. He made it to the board room, bright white with minimalist grey furniture. Everything was so simple and expensive-looking, but the bright colours gave him a headache.

The chair nearest the door looked most appealing to him, he set his laptop case down and nestled himself into the chair, continuing to look at the notification. It, indeed, had to be Peter. Despite the amount of interviews he’d heard about, Lucian’s name had never been mentioned, there was no way it could be someone posing as him.

His finger clicked the pop-up, and he opened up his profile. The photo was him, albeit one that was much less made-up. His cover photo was himself with his quite large, obviously Catholic family, standing with his arm wrapped round his mother’s waist. 

Lucian was still close with Anne Vincent, he visited her every time he was down in Chelsea. Even after he broke up with her son, she still invited him to her cottage and insisted on fattening him up with tea party sandwiches and talking extensively about their lives. In place of Peter, Anne arrived at his wedding to Sonja, just as supportive as ever. Yet, that bond never brought Lucian and Peter back together.

Some days, he’d look at his text conversations with Anne and wonder if he should ask her for Peter’s number. Though, he could never find a way to work it into a normal chat, so he simply never brought it up. He was sick of how childish he was, how he’d always come home too drunk and high to do anything but puke in the bathroom and then sprawl out in bed, leaving Lucian to undress him and sleep on the sofa.

He tended to put on rose-tinted glasses when thinking about Peter, though even the sweetest memories of him always led back to the lowest lows of their relationship. His memory never wanted him to enjoy any thoughts about Peter, even the rare moments when they were both happy with each other.

Lucian pressed “accept” without a further thought and tucked his phone back into his pocket. One of his co-workers was approaching the board room, a trendy little thing with an expensive tablet. He pulled his laptop out of its sleeve, booting it up and pretending to be busy while she walked in.

“Hey, Lucian,” she said, her voice raspy. He nodded in response, typing in his password before pulling up a Google doc. She sat up the table from him, leaving two seats between the both of them. “It’s Lu- _ sea _ -an, right? Lu- _ shan _ ?”

“ _ Lu-sea-an _ .” He said, looking up at her with a bored look on his face. She looked back to her tablet, deciding to stop talking with him. He was thankful she took the hint.

He got up from his laptop and left the room, heading to the first floor. There was still half an hour before the meeting, so he decided to get himself a coffee from the café downstairs. The line was beginning to form, still short but long enough to promise he wouldn’t have to return to his co-worker before the rest of their team showed up.

The lobby was filled with chatter, it served as pleasant white noise. In that time, he browsed a few of his apps and resisted the urge to check Facebook and stalk Peter’s profile. 

He ordered an Americano when he reached the front of the line, and within moments his cardboard coffee cup was warming his cold hand. Lucian took his sweet time returning to the board room, slowly sauntering through the office. One of his work friends spotted him from afar and approached him, holding a camera up to him.

“Lucian, what do you think of my outfit?” She asked, pointing out a pair of clear, plastic trousers with neon bike shorts underneath. He had no clue if this was a dare, or some internet trend he’d neglected to read up on, but he nodded once, gently.

“Reminds me of my clubbing days,” he said, his voice low. She giggled in response, squeezing against him in a side-hug and saying something about how he said that like he was old. Thirty-two felt quite old in an environment like this.

The rest of his journey to the board room was uneventful, so he took a long sip of coffee and savoured the taste of it. The café had quite good coffee, all things considered. It was smooth, bitter to the exact degree he liked it, and the espresso kick was much appreciated for someone as low-energy as him.

He looked down at the floor to avoid making eye contact with anyone else. He looked up once he reached the door and stepped into the meeting room, finding each seat besides his filled. Their team’s leader was standing at the opposite end of the table, projecting a music video onto the screen behind him. He got to work trying to look busy on his laptop, trying to ignore the awful song battering his eardrums.

When the song was finally muted, the meeting began, and Lucian silently listened along. He claimed three different articles that would only take him about a week to complete altogether. One about Pride Month in London, another about wearing skirts as a masculine-presenting individual, and a third about summer festivals. He had no idea why he nabbed the skirt one, or summer festivals, but they seemed so easy that he took them without overthinking the fact he’d have to find a skirt and take pictures of himself styling it. Maybe he could convince one of his co-workers to help him take photos, ones he’d inevitably have to post to his rarely-used Instagram, as well.

He quickly began to regret it. However, it was too late to change his mind, and he’d just have to live with the regret. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad, he’s already made worse choices today.

Lucian left the meeting without saying goodbye to anyone. He tossed his coffee cup into the bin beside the door and wrapped his hand tightly round his laptop sleeve, ensuring that it was still hanging off of his shoulder. He was thankfully ignored as he exited the building, taking his ugly, dented red car down to the shops. There were a few clothing stores he wanted to visit, find a few nice, cheap skirts he could wear for a video.

Peter was the type to defy conventions, wear anything he pleased and look absolutely flawless doing it. It still hurt to think about those nights, think about when he watched his ex-lover get dressed and act coy when Peter noticed him staring. Then he’d go out to the clubs, lose Lucian within half an hour, and end up standing outside the club, his makeup smeared and his arms folded over his chest. He looked so sad when they drove home, forcing himself to get on his knees to silence the intrusive thoughts.

He pushed Lucian down onto their sofa one morning, trying to get him in the mood. When he declined, Peter locked himself in their bedroom and worked through a breakdown, all while he sat outside the door, his heart aching for him. He greeted Peter when he opened the door, his makeup smudged off of his eyes and his face red. Lucian was tightly wrapped up in his arms, he kissed his forehead and encased him in his own. They stood like that for what felt like hours, finding solace in each other.

Lucian flipped through skirts, searching for something that would fit his waist. He refused to let a sales associate help, and he just took the largest sizes into the changing room, trying each on until he found the perfect hit. The fabric swirled round the middle of his calves, flaunting his well-worn hiking boots. He liked the plaid one, it suited the aged graphic tee he’d thrown on before work.

He was certain Peter had one like it, though he was never a fan of plaid, flannel, anything like that. Something about it reminded him of his ex trudging across their tiny flat, hand pressed to his forehead and his eyes scrunched closed. He’d curl up beside Lucian on their sofa, groaning and nuzzling against him. One of two things would happen after that—lazy morning sex or discussions that always upset one of them. “Should we get domestic,” “why haven’t I met your parents,” “do you think we’ll be together five years from now?”

Lucian took two skirts up to the till, paying for both while the sales associate remarked that she hadn’t seen a man buy himself a skirt. He didn’t respond to her comments, he simply said “thank you” once the transaction was done and left the store, throwing his bag in the back of his car and thought about Peter some more. 

It was an awful idea, why would he force himself to keep thinking about it? He’d already understood why their relationship hadn’t worked, there was no reason to keep overthinking it. But his thoughts couldn’t move on from the subject, they stagnated on Peter.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and noticed a few notifications. Two messages from exactly who he expected. Lucian read them over and over again, just a simple “Hi” and “I’m in Chelsea, how about I visit you?”

When he finally opened his Facebook and read the messages, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t a good idea to see Peter. They weren’t good for each other, yet he desperately wanted to see him. Maybe the time had changed him, changed them both, maybe they could be friends at the very least.

“Does tomorrow work?”

“Of course. ;)”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter should be coming soon, winter break is coming up soon for me~ thank you for reading~


	5. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Lucian finally reconnect, and Peter gets nervous about reuniting with his ex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for bulimia

Peter spent an ungodly amount of time in the mirror that afternoon. He mussed his hair, trying to make it look slept-in yet still put together, making sure every piece was in the exact right place. He was sick of the eyeliner, the thick raccoon circles painted on his eyes each night, so he decided to go without it, even though he knew Lucian liked that look on him. Though, he decided to compromise on the skinny jeans: they made his cock and thighs look incredible.

The sheer amount of time he spent getting ready to see Lucian was ridiculous, fixing everything he felt wasn’t right, trying to make himself look like he did back when they were still together. It was likely he wouldn’t even notice Peter’s efforts, he’d just smile and, embarrassed he hadn’t picked up on it himself, giggle uncomfortably and say he was waiting for the right moment to point it out. But, even if Lucian were to do that, Peter would still totally believe him.

He slipped out of the bathroom and into the living room, checking his phone feverishly, like he had ten seconds ago. Yep, still no text saying Lucian had to cancel their plans, no text saying he’d decided he was done with Peter and refused to see him.

Anne broke him out of his self-doubt, rubbing her hands up and down his arms. When he came home yesterday, she told him all about how she kept in contact with Lucian, how he was almost exactly the same as he was the last time they saw each other. The only real difference was his clothing, which Peter had gleaned when he managed to find his Instagram the night before. He’d posted a picture the night before, of him in a dressing room, a tartan skirt hanging round his waist. Peter downloaded the image after following two different tutorials online, and spent too long admiring it that morning. His hair was slightly undone, and Peter was entertaining the idea of fixing it when Lucian walked out of the dressing room, his fingers trailing down the side of his face. It was a trick he used on groupies, one that almost always worked. Although, it worked differently on Lucian. To him, it was a silent reminder that Peter loved him.

But, it stopped working the closer they got to their breakup. His magic wore off, and that fact hurt.

He had to tell himself that this was a second chance, the perfect opportunity to show Lucian he’d grown, that he wasn’t the immature mess of a person he was. It was a chance to show Lucian that he was close to becoming the man he deserved, even if he knew deep down he never would be.

Peter hugged his mum, trying to convince himself to get in his car and drive to Harrow and stop being so pathetic. He kissed her cheek and began his trek out to the car, adjusting himself in his trousers.

His thoughts swam and tried to swallow him whole. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, wondering if it would be better if he stopped now, pulled off onto the side of the road and hit his head on the wheel, knocked some sense into himself. There was no way he could convince himself to not see Lucian, he wouldn’t let himself turn around and hide. He was not going to avoid him.

Peter eagerly changed the station what felt like three thousand times in just a handful of minutes, disliking every single song more vehemently than he’d ever hated a song before. He glanced round, noting the corner shops, the petrol station, and finally, the closed record store that marked he was almost at Lucian’s place, according to Anne’s directions.

His heart began to race in his chest when he caught sight of the red car. He stopped at the curb, watching the house intently. His stomach lurched, it tried to throw itself out through his throat and spill its contents on the floor of his mum’s car. Peter shuddered, resting his crossed arms over the steering wheel and pressing his forehead against them. He should have gotten drunk. How could he have done this to himself? He wasn’t ready to do this, but he threw himself right into something he still hadn’t totally gotten over, addressed, understood, even.

Peter forced himself out of the car and grabs the pack of beer from his passenger seat. He strutted up to Lucian’s door, as that was all he could do in those trousers, and stood at it for a few moments. His breathing wouldn’t slow, he couldn’t get himself to relax.

Without him even knocking, the door flew open, and he was face-to-face with Lucian. He almost jerked back, nearly dropped the beer, and tried to regain his composure within a nanosecond. Peter laughed softly, trying to soften the blow of his awkward second-first impression.

“_ God, _ you’re not regretting this, are you?” He grinned at Lucian, who was still staring at him. His mind was already racing, and he was already certain he totally fucked up. He’d start backing up to his car and drive back to his mum’s house, return to Chelsea, and then he’d be back on tour in no time. Then he could forget just how fucking stupid he’d been within the span of a moment.

However, before he could turn round and run away, Lucian laughed and shook his head.

“Maybe a bit. But you’re here, and you have beer, so I’m not letting you go just yet.” He stepped aside, letting Peter into his home.

As he entered, he glanced round, noticing just how similar it was to their old flat in Chelsea. Decorated almost exactly as it had been back in the day, just without any of Peter’s touches. It felt familiar, it felt like it was wrapping its warm arms round him and inviting him back into the past.

He was glad Lucian hadn’t insisted on hugging, he knew he would have dropped the beer and probably yammered on about how the last time they touched like that was at least a decade ago. They stopped in the living room, and he took the beer from Peter, taking it to the fridge. While he was away, he took to investigating Lucian’s new home. It looked humble, which he had expected, he was always very modest and lived within his means, unlike Peter. His midori habit wasn’t cheap.

He didn’t feel right in Lucian’s place. He felt like he was intruding, he’d managed to weasel his way somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. Nausea overcame him. Was Lucian disappointed in how he looked? Did he expect better of Peter? He should have done more.

Maybe he could sneak away to the loo and spill his guts. It would all be stomach acid, he hadn’t eaten that morning to prevent vomiting on Lucian’s shoes the second he saw him in the flesh. But he’d feel better, that’s all he’d need to feel more comfortable.

He began to slip away, glancing around and approximating where the bathroom would be, but Lucian returned to the living room, smiling casually. _ Damn, _ Peter was stuck now. He tried to look like he’d just been checking the place out, not that he was already about to reintroduce his disorders before they’d properly said ‘hello.’

“D’you wanna watch something? I’ve got some movies, though I think Sonja took the halfway decent ones.” He went over to the bookshelf beside the TV, shuffling through each DVD.

Peter tried to swallow the lump growing in his throat, but he couldn’t do it.

“Can I use your bathroom?” He asked, fully expecting Lucian to say he could puke in the bushes out front.

He turned round, holding a few DVD cases. “‘Course, Peter. It’s through the kitchen.”

It was so casual, and it was exactly what he wanted. He rushed away from the living room, through the kitchen, and found the door wide open, welcoming him. Peter fell onto his knees in front of the toilet, and forced his fingers down his throat. It felt like ages before he started gagging, but then he felt empty again. It wasn’t great, but at least it meant he had a tiny shard of control.

Hopefully Lucian didn’t hear that, but it was likely he wasn’t even paying attention once Peter left the room. He wiped bile from his lips and coughed gently, cleaning up all the evidence before he went back to Lucian. Just as he suspected, he was still looking at DVDs.

Peter sat down on the sofa, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Dread was setting in, he wished he hadn’t overreacted like that. He squeezed his thighs with his fingertips.

His eyes were darting across Lucian’s back. There was a time when he’d clasp onto him from behind, nestle his face into his shoulder and breathe the smell of his shampoo. That came after long nights of Peter doubting himself and spouting self-hatred, which he admittedly hated doing, but wasn’t able to stop in the moment. He liked to think he was in a better place since then, but he didn’t entirely think that was true.

“How’s life?” He piped up, trying to break the silence in the room. “Y’know, job, hobbies, someone new?”

Lucian laughed once, taking a stack of DVDs and setting them on the coffee table in front of the sette. He sat down beside Peter, sitting as close to him as a friend would. It made his heart stop racing nervously, and start racing expectantly.

“My job’s good, I feel old, but that’s expected. I don’t really have many hobbies right now, and there’s nobody new. A hookup or two, but not anything serious since her.” He didn’t sound too broken over it, good. And hookups? That was surprising to Peter.

“You aren’t writing that vampire-were—_ wolf _ erotica anymore?” He tried to joke, but his breath caught awkwardly. His brain started screaming at him, begging for him to just shut up and leave.

“I’ve had writer’s block for five years, it feels like.” Lucian looked over at Peter, his eyes completely fixated on him. “You haven’t changed, you know. Maybe less glitter, but you look exactly the same as you did.”

He looked down before he met his gaze again. Was that his signal for them to fuck on the sofa? He couldn’t say he was exactly in the mood for it, but maybe some frotting would be okay. God, did he have some sort of fixation with sex? Probably.

“Thanks. I forgot how nice _ you _ look.” He grinned gently, trying to turn it into a smirk but ultimately failing.

“So I don’t look like damaged goods?” He joked, leaning back with his eyes still stuck to Peter.

He smiled at Lucian, shaking his head once. “Damaged goods? _ You? _” He was certain he was about to tread too closely to actual flirtation, he stepped back. Peter didn’t want to scare him off and act too presumptuous.

Lucian picked the movies up from the coffee table while Peter worried about being too forward. He set the movies down in his lap, holding one at a time out to him.

“Here, isn’t this your favourite?” He laughed gently, setting _ Twinklight _ in his lap. Peter felt his cheeks burn and turn red, that probably looked ridiculous to Lucian.

“Don’t remind me.” He shook his head, leaning back to match his posture. “Remember how we tried to ‘recreate’ it?”

The fact that he remembered the amount of times they popped the movie in, pretended to simply watch it, and then fell on top of each other and desperately fucked each other all night, brought him back. The good memories were overtaking him.

Lucian chuckled darkly. “Oh, of course. You were so vehement on doing Edwin and Bellamy justice.”

“You hate me, don’t you?” Peter turned the DVD over, reading the “synopsis.” The pictures on the back parodied scenes from the movie, deciding not to show any actual nudity. However, the front was a man holding an apple with a hole carved into it, it wasn’t incredibly subtle. Peter got high and fucked a piece of fruit once, he thought it was an uncomfortable but necessary experience for him. His boyfriend at the time encouraged him, and afterwards he got a pretty decent blowjob, so it wasn’t an entirely awful experience. Wasn’t anything compared to the number of times they fucked to this movie, but nothing had really ever come close to that.

_ Fuck, _ he felt himself getting hard. He positioned the case above his crotch, hoping he wasn’t too obvious. Though, Lucian probably already noticed, but decided to be polite and not say anything.

“Definitely,” he said calmly, taking the DVD from Peter and leaving his half-hard cock exposed. He got up again, starting to walk back to the bathroom until he felt Lucian’s hand on his wrist.

He turned round, tightly clenching his fist and burying his fingernails into his palm. His eyebrows furrowed, he didn’t know why he was grabbing him like that. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understood what this would be.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow, but he quickly swept his eyes down and saw what was making him so uncomfortable. He smirked slightly.

“I get it.” He steps closer, leaving a small gap between them. “Mm, it’s...5:30? Damn, I thought we could go to the club and find you somebody to take home.”

Peter was surprised he didn’t just suggest that they hook up, because it was starting to hurt. He either just wanted to jerk off in the loo or ignore all of his anxiety and have completely casual, impersonal sex with Lucian. He assured himself that he’d be alright then, that he could disregard his feelings and just let himself get fucked by his ex that he was still attracted to.

“I’ll just finish myself off. I’ll clean your bathroom, alright?” He tried to slip away, but Lucian wouldn’t let him.

He closed the gap between them, setting his arms over Peter’s shoulders. They grinned at each other, though he felt that he wasn’t as excited as Lucian. He tilted his head gently, all the blood was flowing from his brain to his cock. Admittedly, Peter was lost in his eyes, and then he slipped his hands round Lucian’s waist. It felt like something he wasn’t supposed to do, but he still leaned in, moaning softly. His eyelids felt heavy, they threatened to close. But, he kept his eyes on Lucian, who brushed his lips against Peter’s.

Peter jerked back at the sound of a car alarm going off outside, and he let go of Lucian. He was practically panting, he pushed his hair out of his face and tried to calm himself down.

“_ Fuck, _ I’m sorry. Look, how about I get us some beers, then we’ll go out. Like the old times.” He smiled, rushing to the kitchen and grabbing two beers from the kitchen. He can hear Lucian exhale loudly from the living room, maybe even a whisper of annoyance.

When he brought the two bottles out, caps popped off with his key ring, Lucian was sitting on the sette, and _ Twinklight _ was in the DVD player. He hated him, and he was going to get exactly what he wanted. Thinking of his face getting pushed into the cushions, his arse up in the air, Lucian pounding into him, both of them moaning almost in unison with the porn. Peter had to resist sighing in delight.

He just had to keep himself from getting hard, he thought about all number of disgusting things to kill his arousal. Once they got to the club he’d find somebody, he knew it, but he had to resist begging for Lucian to do him after the panic earlier. But _ god, _ did he want Lucian inside of him. 

He’d just have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i’m pretty sure twinklight is real, but i decided i wasn’t going to look it up and just make an alternate universe version of it. justice for edwin and bellamy.


	6. Lucian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter and lucian head to a club, and flirtation ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> immediate apologies for this one being short, a much longer, much more eventful chapter is coming up soon~ also trying to plan for at least three or four chapters to be released before christmas, so please bother me if i start slacking.

Lucian didn’t want to acknowledge how flustered he made Peter, but in the back of his mind he was enjoying each tortured glance and breath caught in his throat. He’d have him in no time, even if it was just for the night. But that’s all he could have wanted for their reunion.

He watched Peter enter the club at his side, hopefully everyone who watched them pass by would know he was Lucian’s. His hand wanted to slip round his middle and grab his narrow, bony hip, grip the bone until his knuckles turned white. If he left a bruise, that was even better. A gorgeous little marker of ownership on one of the most gorgeous parts of his body (though, almost every part of him was).

While Peter still understood the club scene, Lucian was a tad out of step. He wasn’t used to it being so cozy, and didn’t expect the pop music playing over the speakers. Though, the crowd looked just as lively as he remembered.

They finished the six pack at home, yet the buzz was already wearing off. Drink prices were ridiculous, he could scarcely justify £10 for one beer that would cost round £1.50 at the corner shop. But, drunk, flustered, increasingly-aroused Peter was worth the price inflation. By the end of the night they’d be all over each other,  _ just _ like the old times.

When he turned to look at the prize drifting closer and closer to his side, he noted the comfortable smile on his face. He fully trusted him, it wouldn’t be hard to get him sloshed when he was already tipsy enough to stumble over his own feet.

“How about a beer?” Lucian asked, and like he expected, Peter nodded once. He giggled softly when he toppled down against the bar, looking up at his companion with a hint of excitement. Well, he probably thought it looked like just a hint, but if anything his face just gave away how badly he wanted to be filled. He ordered him a beer, deciding against £20 on one round.

Peter glanced round the club, catching the eyes of a few horny arsheholes. He turned away from them when he heard Lucian growling like a feral dog and cupped his hand round the beer bottle. Were he fully aware, he probably would have asked why the hell he did that. But, Lucian was lucky, and Peter disregarded it. 

He leaned a bit closer and sipped his beer, waiting for him to say something. He came up with something to satiate him.

“I saw your movie. Never thought I’d see you acting again.” Lucian placed his forearms on the bar, facing Peter.

He scoffed in response, waving one hand between them. “I act everyday, that’s a stupid thing to say. You thought I  _ enjoyed _ introducing you to my family? If they hadn’t disowned me for the stage show they disowned me for bringing you home.”

Lucian nodded, tipping his head down and letting his hair fall in his face.

“Right, of course. I forgot about that. Probably for the better, actually.” He glanced up at Peter, and the need to grab him close and grope him was overtaking him. The lights made him even more delicious, it brought back memories of their clubbing days. He always looked like his natural habitat was a club, beaming spotlights illuminated him and accentuated the beauty in every single feature, the glitter splashed on his face matched the kind discarded on the floor, tracked out of the club on platform boots.

“But you’re still friends with my mum,” he said, pressing his cheek against the lip of the bottle. “She probably considers you her actual son.”

Lucian shifted in his seat, deciding to lean closer to Peter. “ _ No, _ she treats me like her son-in-law, even when I’d bring Sonja over I could tell she wished it was you sitting next to me.”

Peter was shocked to hear that. “Even without the preten—, pre—even though she knew we wouldn’t get back together, she still liked having you and your wife over?”

“ _ Ex- _ wife. But yes, she loved having us over. She’d always try to call you but you were busy performing, the time zones confounded her. Is she excited you came over today?” Lucian smirked down at Peter, hoping they could get onto a more titillating topic as soon as possible.

“I think so. She loves you, she’s  _ always _ hoped that she’d walk me down the aisle and hand me off to you. When she heard you and Sonja were separating, she called me and told me, just so the next time I was nearby I’d be able to swoop in and console you, like a rom-com or something.” He laughed, finishing off his beer. “My mum is our wingman.”

Lucian locked his eyes on Peter’s, and he finally moved in close enough to rest their arms against each other. “Then I guess we should seal the deal and finally end her quest to get us back together.”

Peter giggled, getting up and stretching out his wiry body. Lucian wanted to pull him back down, but he decided against it.

“I’m gonna go take a piss, be right back.” He sauntered off to the toilets, and Lucian watched him walk the entire way. His body was made for leather trousers, even if they didn’t agree with his legs. The way his hips swung round in them was like a fine art piece, it had to be studied in detail (like every part of him wasn’t a masterpiece in its own right, but he’d need more time to appreciate each and every one). The fact that dozens of men in that very club would give anything to just get a second with him, to treat him as gently or roughly as they wanted, just to grab a fistful of his hair and make him moan out in delight while he rolled his hips into their cocks made Lucian revel in how lucky he was to have a second chance at him. Soon, he’d have his hands on those hips, he’d get to kiss them, bite them, run his tongue across the pelvic bone and get that much closer to—

He needed to stop. At this rate the blue balls would kill him, he had to be patient. He bought himself a beer, despite his earlier decision not to, and planned the rest of the night once Peter returned from the toilet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, a non-filler chapter is coming up soon.


	7. Eli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eli tries to warn peter about lucian, but ends up going home with them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains violence and non-con.

It felt stupid to splash his face with water, but he had to find another reason to keep standing in the toilets. A random guy standing beside the urinals, waiting for a man he’s never seen before to finish taking a piss, just looked strange and rape-y. Even though he was trying to do something for good, he felt like he was doing something completely depraved and wrong.

He patted his face dry with a paper towel and threw it into the bin beside the door. By the time he turned round, the man was finished, and was washing his hands. He took a deep breath, and approached him, stopping with one sink between them.

“Uhm, hi.” Eli said, smiling gently. The man looked up at him momentarily, and smiled back, looking very tipsy.

“Oh, sorry, d’you need this?” He gestured at the sink, but Eli yipped out a “no” in response.

He shook his head, coming just a tad closer to the man. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the guy sitting with you at the bar. Uhm, do you know him?”

The guy furrowed his brow and nodded, tilting his head.

“Yeah, he’s my ex-boyfriend. Why, do _ you _ know him?” He looked a bit worried, but Eli tried to comfort him in some way.

“Not exactly. It’s just, I hooked up with him a little while ago, and I thought you should know that he’s kind of..._ assertive _?” He wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but it was too late to change it to something else.

The guy set his hip against the sink, folding his arms over each other. He seemed to be looking down at Eli, judging him for saying something so presumptuous about someone he had a lot more experience with, presumably. _ Pre, pre, _pre.

“What does that mean?” His voice came out slurred, so Eli felt less insecure about the question. It felt less like an accusation and more like a genuine inquiry about what he was trying to say. He came closer, standing in front of the sink next to the man.

“What I _ mean, _ is that that guy Lucian is really rough. I asked him to calm down but he refused to, and he hurt me. But, it was probably my fault for hitting him up, he probably is just rough and I wasn’t expecting it.” Eli tried to weasel his way out of the accustion, but he quickly realised how interested the man was. “Here, I have no way to prove he was the one who gave me this, but he bruised me that night.”

He pushed his overgrown curls from his face, showing the man the bruise that had formed on his cheek from that night. His friends were concerned at the mark when he first showed it to them, and the man was reacting about the same way.

“He did that to you?” He asked, his voice soft. Eli nodded, and the man had no idea how to react. A few guys pushed them out of the way of the sinks, and they both quickly exited the toilets. He leaned over and rose his voice so the man could still hear him.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew. You seem nice, I don’t want you to get hurt by him.” He said close to the man’s ear, and he nodded, looking at Eli.

“I’ll be careful. Thank you, uhm?” They were fast approaching Lucian at the bar, and he tried to politely slip away before he was in that wolf’s sight.

“Eli,” Lucian said, surprise lingering in his tone. “You know Peter?”

The man beside him, Peter, shook his head, looking up at Lucian with some look overtaking his face. “No, we just met in the loo. Surprised to find someone you know here, huh?”

Lucian and Peter looked at Eli for probably a second, but it felt like they were staring through him, trying to intimidate him. He shifted on his feet, anxiously waiting for one of them to say something. When Peter looked away to order more beer, Lucian was still staring at him. His eyes were locked on him, and Eli didn’t know what he wanted.

“Here, how ‘bout another beer?” Peter handed a beer to Eli, who took it with some hesitation. He clinked their bottles, then clinked his with the bottle Lucian took. “Cheers.”

Eli didn’t want to drink, he didn’t want to get drunk round Lucian. He pretended to take a sip, and listened to Peter chatter drunkenly about some thing that Eli wasn’t paying attention to. Instead, he was focused on Lucian.

“I’m sorry for what I did, Eli. I didn’t realise what I was doing, it’s been on my mind since that night. I hope you’re alright now.” He said during a lull in the conversation, and Eli wasn’t sure if he believed that apology, especially when he still had the injuries. But, it was rude to not accept it.

He looked down into his beer and flattened his lips into a straight line. “Thank you. I’m sorry for what I said to Peter about you, it turns out I was wrong. I think we just got off on the wrong foot.”

They smiled at each other, but Eli still felt something was off. Lucian glanced between Peter and Eli, and the energy of the conversation quickly changed.

“We were just about to go home, actually.” He smirked, his hand held out slightly. His fingers brushed against Eli’s. “I mean, if you’d like to join us.”

Lucian nestled against Peter, grabbing him close and groping his arse. He yelped out in glee, looking up at Lucian and falling against him. Peter hesitated when he leaned in to kiss him, but his gaze indicated he wasn’t totally rejecting him.

Peter placed an arm round Eli’s middle, which made him tense up for a moment. He eventually decided it was okay, but in the back of his mind he felt that he was making a mistake. The feeling lingered as he was led back to Lucian’s house, even as Peter tried to distract him by running his hands up and down his sides and across his thighs. He could tell that Eli was unsure about deciding to go home with them, he was probably dripping with anxiety.

Once they were at the front step, Eli felt the anxiety come to a head. He tried to resist showing how distressed he felt, but it was incredibly obvious to Peter and Lucian.

“You’re safe here,” Peter whispered in his ear, his voice half-seductive and half-comforting. “I won’t let him do anything to you that you don’t want.”

They made a b-line for the bedroom, a room which immediately felt safer than the living room. His heart jumped when the door locked behind them, but he didn’t have time to panic when Peter pulled his jumper off. While he shuddered and adjusted to the cold bedroom, he pulled something out of his pocket, a handful of pills. He divvied a few of them up and took them dry, immediately turning his attention back to the shirtless boy in front of him.

He admired Eli’s body and kissed down his chest, before he came back up to sloppily kiss him on the mouth. His hands travelled across his back and arse, he melted into the touch. Admittedly, this made him feel slightly less anxious.

“I wonder how you taste.” Peter’s voice was warm, promising of something better to come. He turned his head round, and made eye contact with Lucian, who was watching from the bed. Peter rocked his hips against Eli’s, which made him yelp in delight, followed by a low moan.

“Come here, both of you.” Lucian was in his pants on the bed, leaning back on his palms. He looked like his mind was racing with ideas of what to do to each of them, and Eli was starting to think that wasn’t the worst idea. If Peter was protecting him, he wouldn’t have to try and assert himself when he was unhappy with what they were doing.

They settled down in bed with him, and Peter began stripping down for Lucian. He cupped his unshaven cheeks and kissed him, sitting in his lap and grinding against him. “_ Mm, _ do you want to fuck me or should we let Eli?”

Lucian glanced over at Eli, sitting on the bed in his trousers and mismatched socks, who gripped his thighs.

“If only we could both fuck you,” he bit Peter’s bottom lip, milking a moan out of him. “I want you first.”

Lucian undressed Peter, who looked thrilled, a weight lifted off of his shoulders. He spread his legs, giving him access. Lucian pushed one of his legs up to his side, he whimpered as ice-cold lube was applied to his arsehole. Eli watched, resisting every hint of arousal he felt. Peter turned to look at him, an inviting look crossing his face.

Peter cried out as Lucian pushed his length into him. 

“No poppers in your stash, huh?” He said into his whimpering lover’s ear with a slight predatory lilt, Eli could feel his muscles tighten in unison with Peter’s. His hand cautiously slipped down to his crotch, he started to rub his groin with his flattened fingers.

“_ Aah, _mm, come here, Eli.” Peter grunted and moaned, bouncing with each of Lucian’s thrusts.

He followed his instructions, and was pulled in close. They made out, only interrupted when Peter had to pull back and squeal out at every perfect movement Lucian made. Though, Peter soon got tired of just kissing.

“Turn round,” he said, grabbing Eli’s thighs once he’d turned to face Lucian. He fell down onto his elbows, and immediately started sighing at the sensation of Peter’s tongue on his hole. Eli whimpered and moaned, reaching out his hand and spitting into it. He cupped Peter’s cock in his wet palm and jerked him off, which got him gasping and panting.

His tongue crept inside Eli’s arse, and his back jerked, arching downward like he was being pulled down to earth. “_ Fuck! _” His voice was high, it rang out in the room.

To silence himself, he placed Peter’s hard cock in his mouth, rolling his tongue across it. Lucian chuckled darkly at the sounds they were both making, the gasping and the whining and the pleads for “_ MORE! _”

Eli felt Peter’s grasp on his thighs tighten, and his folded leg tensed. He’d be wasted in a second, even though he was scarcely wrecked. Slightly damaged, at best. Eli didn’t want to stop until every inch of him ached, and his skin was slick with cooled semen splashed on his stomach, face, back, thighs, anywhere, really.

Peter came in his mouth, and sprawled out on the bed. Eli turned to look at him, noting the pleased look on his tired face. Really, it looked like he’d been barely conscious to begin with, and it looked like the drugs had already begun to take their effect. But, he wasn’t finished, and Lucian wasn’t, either.

He got off of Peter, and lied down on the other side of the bed. Lucian did the same, he turned Eli round and forced him into the same doggy position. His cock was slick, it felt amazing in Eli’s arse. Lucian thrust in and out of him roughly, which in turn made his cheek bounce against the headboard. It wasn’t painful, just a gentle tap every now and again. The great outweighed the mediocre, slightly-annoying bits.

Eli wondered if that had just been a big misunderstanding, the first time didn’t make any sense compared to now. It was a tad rough, the thrusting was a bit harsh for his taste, but he didn’t mind. At that point, he desperately wanted to be torn apart.

Lucian began to speed up, thrust harder, and took a hold of Eli’s hair. His fist balled up and tugged roughly, his scalp began to sting.

He looked over at Peter, who was staring at them with heavily-lidded eyes. He tried to beg for help, but no sound came out beyond moans. His eyes squeezed shut when Lucian pressed his face into the headboard. It pulled back with the next thrust, and was subsequently slammed into the headboard.

“_ Ow, _ please st—” Eli began, but quickly he was silenced with another slam against the headboard. It was firmer than the first time, and was beginning to hurt like a migraine. “ _ Stop it, _I’ll get you fucking arrested!”

The next slam thudded against his skull, he swore he heard it crack. All he could make was a pained screech, which quickly turned into yowling in pain. He tried to threaten Lucian, but the next slam blinded him for a second. Eli blinked and whimpered loudly, and his eyes locked on Peter.

Though, within moments his face was a bloody mess, red spatter sprayed across the room. Lucian didn’t stop, he just grunted and kept banging Eli’s face against the headboard. Every thud echoed through the room, mixed with Lucian’s moans.

A sickening crack rang out when his nose shattered, his skull had already fragmented and the integrity of his face was disappearing. By that point, Eli couldn’t feel any of the blows. He just felt a dull thud pulsing behind his splintered skull, he felt his teeth being bashed out of his jaw, and just as quickly, he stopped feeling everything as a deafening squelch drowned him. Like that, he was gone.

Lucian yelled out as he came, and dropped Eli down beside Peter. His face was pure gore, it looked closer to ground beef than a human. His eyeballs were squashed like two grapes, the capillaries in them had burst before they’d been crushed. The blue stood out against the red, that was the first time he’d noticed Eli had blue eyes. He shook, he wanted to do something but he was trapped in his body. Above his head, a sticky red smear stained the headboard. Peter could see bits of brain matter sticking to the wood, and when he looked back down at Eli, his lip quivered. The practically liquified brain drizzled out onto the bed sheets, leaked onto Peter’s naked body.

Peter whimpered softly, looking up at Lucian. He was shrouded with a post-orgasm glow, he looked so delighted. He leaned down and kissed approximately where his lips once were. He made love to the spot, before he finally turned to Peter, his lips covered in blood and viscera. Lucian kissed Peter last, embracing him and spreading the gore through his unmoving mouth.

Inside, Peter was shrieking. He was utterly horrified. What the _ fuck _ had just happened? His body was entirely limp, so when Lucian jerked him off with another handful of Eli’s face, he didn’t react. His eyes welled with tears, and he squeezed them shut.

The image was burnt into his brain. He felt a cold hand on his chest, and when he turned, Eli was moving, kneeling over his body and staring down at him. The flesh melted off of his face, dripping down all over Peter. In his dream, he wailed like a banshee, he begged for it to stop. He drank the fluid that was once Eli’s eyeballs, and he vomited it back up, spewing it back all over his face.

He cried and choked on his vomit, he begged for it to stop, and then he opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eli deserved better and i feel bad for what i did to him.

**Author's Note:**

> if satan wants to claim me he’ll have to drag my fat ass down to hell with his bare hands


End file.
